


Compromised

by DittyWrites



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Flirting, Halloween, In which Bruce is easily swayed and Harvey knows it, Kissing, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Reminiscing, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 12:53:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11669508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DittyWrites/pseuds/DittyWrites
Summary: Ancient memories of drunken nights sneaking in and out that very window in an effort to escape a long-suffering Alfred flashed through Bruces' mind, the ghosts of youthful passion, and he suppressed a smile as he gave a thoughtful look.“I really should change that lock because it could let in unwanted guests.” He offered wryly.Shrugging, Harvey adjusted the lapels of his split suit.“Too late.”





	Compromised

Hiring the musical talents of the swing band had been more expensive than he had anticipated but even Bruce had to admit that they had a certain charm as he fought the urge to tap his foot along to the jaunty tunes which they emitted.

It was Halloween in Gotham and all the ghouls were out in force.

As tradition dictated, he had organised his yearly Halloween charity gala to take place the night before the actual festivities and it was the social event of the season in Gotham City. The ladies and gentlemen of Gothams' elite had descended on Wayne Manor for a night of casual drinking, competitive costume comparisons and raising money for a host of youth charities across the city.

His children were dotted about the room in their various costumes. Dick had elected to dress as Zorro while Damian had been determined to sew his own vampire costume, complete with cape and accessories, and Bruce felt a burst of fondness every time he caught the sight of him from the corner of his eye. Tim had elected to take up the nights' patrol and he was unsure of what trouble the rest were causing.

“Oh my god!” A nearby blonde exclaimed loudly, pointing at Bruce and breaking his concentration. “It's Batman!”

Putting on a fake hoarse voice, Bruce extended his arms and allowed his dark blue cape to extend outwards.

“I'm Batman!”

“Brucie! You are a scream!” The woman giggled, placing her hand in Bruces' outstretched one as they settled into a comfortable sway on the dance floor. “It looks so cheap! Why didn't you push for something more...accurate?”

It was intentional. A private joke for himself and his family. He had selected the cheapest Batman costume which he could find in Gothams' various dress-up stored. The tights were cheap and quite uncomfortable and the spandex chest covering was almost stretched to breaking point. The cowl reeked of cheap fabric as it sat across the face and the entire ensemble was an odd mixture of dark blue and yellow which was so unlike his actual costume that it gave him a little joy.

“I forgot about this party,” allowing a slick grin to slide onto his face, Bruce lied easily, “and I had to make do with what I could find at the last moment!”

“What you need,” the woman lowered her tone in a sultry manner, “is a Mrs. Wayne to keep you in check? How is the love life, Bruce?”

Shrugging, he answered her honestly.

“Between keeping an eye on my wards and ensuring that Wayne Enterprises continues to thrive and support her local community, I have not had a lot of time to settle down.”

Releasing her hand gently, he gave her a winning smile.

“Excuse me, but I have to go and make my opening speech.”

Elevating himself up the main staircase, Bruce stole a champagne flute from one of the nearby waiters and flicked it lightly to gather the attention of the room.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” his strong voice carried across the room with ease as a sea of masks and painted faces turned to listen, “I would like to thank you all for attending this little charity event and I wish you all a good night to enjoy it! Donations to the very good cause can be received by the clerk beneath the stained glass window,” he smirked, “just ignore his costume.”

A small smattering of laughter crossed the room as the attendees noticed the youthful clerk who had appeared costumed as a stereotypical bank robber, complete with mask, striped jumper and huge sack with 'SWAG' stitched across it.

“Eat, drink, be merry and take care to avoid any ghosts which you may encounter in these dark hallways.” He added, voice growing a touch more dramatic as he held up his drink.

The chorus of agreement which reached him was positive and he placed the untouched champagne flute back on a nearby tray as he continued to mingle with the crowd. He was careful to avoid dancing too much with any of the women whom he understood had a physical or financial interest in him and he gently rebuffed more than one invitation to various after-parties which he had no intention of attending.

Eyes sweeping across the room, they landed on his eldest son as he charmed his way through the crowd with an ease which would make a lesser individual jealous.

A presence made itself known by his left ear and Bruce stiffened as he prepared to fend off another unwanted admirer.

“That costume is atrocious and you know it.”

Whirling around at the unexpectedly familiar masculine voice, Bruce adjusted the stretched eyeholes of his costume as his mind whirred to place the voice.

It only took a moment for the answer to hit him.

“Harvey?”

His dark suit was beautifully tailored and the dual nature of it was not too out of place among the lavish and eccentric costuming which littered the room. The right side was predominately black with white and gold trimmings while the left side was a stunning shade of marbled white with black and gold trimmings.

It was a sight for the eyes; garish but undeniably beautiful in its symmetry.

A golden Greek tragedy mask completed the ensemble and hid the features of its wearer from any prying eyes.

“Bruce.”

The unmistakable voice of Harvey Dent.

Instantly put on edge by the presence of one of his oldest loves and most dangerous enemies, Bruce tightened his fists within the cheap spandex gloves as he narrowed his eyes.

“If you're here t-”

Holding up a placating hand, Harvey cut him off.

“We are not here in a criminal capacity,” he soothed, “so do not cause a scene.”

“Take off your mask.” Bruce demanded, unsettled at being unable to read his expression through the layers of light metal.

Shaking his head, Harvey declined.

“Meet me in the kitchen in two minutes,” Harvey offered instead, “and we can discuss our business there.”

Grunting in approval, Bruce turned away from him and moved back into the crowd.

Catching Dicks' eye, he indicated the kitchen and signaled that he was not to be disturbed. He caught the concern and questioning in the returned expression and he shook his head gently to indicate that there was no immediate danger.

Slipping swiftly past his guests, he opened the door to the kitchen and slid inside.

The catering were using the main kitchen to ensure that the guests were kept sated with hors d'oeuvres' and other snacks so the kitchen itself was abandoned aside from its one other occupant.

Bruce waited by the doorway awkwardly as he watched Harvey stand in a similar position and there was an uncomfortable tension in the air as they waited for something to happen.

Harvey was the one to break it as he extended his arms, reached up and unclipped his mask.

As his features were revealed, Bruce experienced a lurch in his chest which he had come to associate with the man before him.

The mottled scarring which covered half of his face was ridged and pitted, the evidence of some surgical attempts to lessen the damage standing out against the dry flesh as an affront. The deep reds and pinks of the skin gave it a constant aura of pain, a rawness which would never heal, and it contrasted with the shock white hair which stood from the scalp above it.

It was frightening.

However, the handsome features which decorated the opposing half of the face held a fond familiarity that could not be ignored or denied, a tenderness which no amount of horror could fully poison.

Years had passed and more wounds had been exchanged between them than Bruce would ever feel comfortable with and yet, as he was met by the torn visage that was the face of Harvey Dent, he was again confronted by the fact that he would never be able to see past the man he had once loved, the one who existed beneath the monster.

Crossing his arms over his chest as he raised an eyebrow, Bruce ignored the tightening of his chest.

“This party was invitation only,” and it had been as every guard had been informed that no invitation meant no entry, “so how did you even get in?”

Rubbing the sides of his head where the mask had caused small indents into his skin, Harvey placed it gently atop one of the nearby work surfaces as he answered.

“That window in the back. The one on the west corridor with the rusty latch? It can still be worked open with the correct tools.”

Ancient memories of drunken nights sneaking in and out that very window in an effort to escape a long-suffering Alfred flashed through Bruces' mind, the ghosts of youthful passion, and he suppressed a smile as he gave a thoughtful look.

“I really should change that lock because it could let in unwanted guests.” He offered wryly.

Shrugging, Harvey adjusted the lapels of his split suit.

“Too late.”

Momentarily distracted by the easy speech which flowed between them, Bruce sobered up quickly as he remembered the situation for what it was.

“Are you here to cause trouble?”

“We wouldn't have bothered dressing up if we were.” Harvey retorted instantly, the first hint of annoyance entering his voice as it lowered a notch. “Our natural look is frightening enough without having to use childish costumes.”

“If you're not here to fight then why are you here?”

“Business.”

“Bruce Wayne does not do business with figures from the Gotham underworld.” He pursed his lips.

“But the Batman is always in need of information.”

Scowling as he was so casually reminded of Harveys' knowledge of his alter-ego, Bruce elected to remain stubbornly silent.

“We know where Cranes' hideout is,” wiping the scarred corner of his mouth with the back of one hand, Harvey threw out his gambit, “and we know he will be planning something special for the holidays.”

Damn.

His own efforts to discover Cranes' lair had been unsuccessful and if the rumours were to be believed he did indeed have something nefarious planned for Halloween night.

“And in return?”

“Maroni is attempting to take the Southern side from me.” Harvey hissed, his fists balling up in anger as he considered the rival gangster. “He is using one of the Gotham ports to import weapons and materials which could give us some trouble and I want to know which port.”

“So you can steal them?” Bruce concluded.

“So I can convince them that a partnership with myself would be more enjoyable than the one they have with that jumped-up Italian bastard.” Growling, Harveys' features had twisted in anger and Bruce could see his hand inching towards his pocket.

Towards his coin.

“He thinks he can take over our territories? He's got another thing coming.”

Harvey broke off as he continued to mutter obscenities as Bruce considered his offer.

As long as Harvey kept his business to himself and did not cross any lines then Bruce was happy to respect the uneasy alliance which existed between them. At the first sign of innocent blood spilled or civilian casualty through his dealings he swore he would intervene and no power in Gotham would prevent him from hauling his old friend through the gates of Arkham.

He could not afford to be swayed by the history between them.

Walking past Harvey, he was intending on pouring himself a small glass of water when he felt Harveys' hard curve around his upper arm and hold him in place.

Glancing at the hand, his gaze zeroed in on the scarring which marred his rough skin.

While nowhere near as severe as that on his face, small patches of acid-burned skin were mingled with fresh scarring and displayed the consequences of his life as a criminal.

Ignoring the heat which the unexpected touch sent through his system, Bruce placed his own hand on top of Harveys'.

“Harvey-” He sighed but was cut off.

“We used to love Halloween, do you remember? In the old days.”

“I remember, but-”

“You used to let me stay here and rehearse my various arguments and defences for my classes in law school,” Harvey reminisced, “even though you probably had better things to be getting on with.”

Glancing around the kitchen, he continued.

“Do you remember that year we ditched your party and hid in that pantry?” As Harvey gestured to the pantry in question, Bruce could not help but follow his gaze. “And that woman accidentally walked in on us? Our costumes were all over the floor and you were pinned beneath me as we rolled around the floor together? And you convinced her that we had been fighting?”

“She has downed an entire bottle of gin to herself,” sighing again, Bruce felt a sweeping fondness as he recalled the night, “so it wasn't too hard to convince her that we had a disagreement.”

“The scandal would have been historic.”

“Gotham would have recovered.”

Coming to a decision, Bruce let his hands fall to his side.

“Port 16. That is the port which I believe Maroni may be employing,” he revealed before adding, “but you must promise no killing.”

“If it can be helped.”

“It is not up for debate. You kill. You go to Arkham. You know the rules, Harvey.”

“Always the stubborn one, Bruce.”

Harvey did not remove his hand and Bruce felt him lean in closer.

“Crane is hiding out at the abandoned apartment block in East Gotham,” Harveys' breath tickled his ear as he spoke quietly, “the block immediately south from the Ace Chemicals western warehouse.”

Turning to face him, Bruces' stomach constricted again as he realised that there were barely a few inches separating him from Harveys' face.

“Thank you.” He offered sincerely.

This information alleviated some of the pressure he had been experiencing over whatever sinister plans Crane had cooked up for the innocent citizens of Gotham.

As they shared a look, Bruce was quick to notice that the look of uncertain aggression and wistfulness which had dominated Harveys' eyes since the start of the conversation had been replaced by something altogether more dangerous.

Hunger.

“We have always been respectful of the,” Harvey paused, his voice was so low that it had an almost vibrating quality to it as he moved an inch closer, “alliance we share, Bruce. We would hate for it to end under poor circumstances.”

Opening his mouth to respond, Bruce was taken aback as he felt Harvey insistent lips upon his own.

Too surprised by the gesture to reciprocate, he stood dumbly for a moment until Harveys' other hand coming to rest on his opposing arm jolted him from his stupor. Selfishly enjoying the kiss for a few seconds, he pulled himself away as he mentally reminded himself not to become too compromised.

“Your impulsiveness was always your worst quality, Harv.”

He murmured the words softly as his mouth brushed Harveys' again and the mixed sensation of the soft and harsh scarred skin which made up his lips caused Bruce to subconsciously lick at his own.

“As is your stubbornness.”

The growled response was barely uttered before Bruce felt Harvey kiss him again, this time with more urgency, and he responded gently as he instinctively brought up one hand to settle on the scarred side of Harveys' face.

It was a dangerous game they played, neither quite committed to destroying the other while also being unable to allow the other to exist as they were, but Bruce were content to allow the moment to pass.

Perhaps he could allow himself to be a little compromised.

 


End file.
